SOME RENNET DAYS 53 



decreasing a little, I put on the fly-cast again, and 

 began to fish under the other bank, where I had seen 

 an occasional ring. It proved that there was a shoal 

 of dace there, and for nearly an hour I wasted excellent 

 opportunities. The wind was still gusty and unpleasant, 

 blowing right in my teeth, and three casts out of four 

 were futile. The fourth usually got a rise, and I usually 

 missed the fish, or pricked and lost him. I finished 

 about 6 p.m. with six dace, running from ten ounces to 

 thirteen ounces, whereas I ought to have had at least 

 twice as many. 



There still remained one more incident of the day, 

 and that the most important. I was strolling home- 

 wards, thinking all was over, as it had turned very 

 cold, when I saw a rise on a shallow outside some 

 rushes. I cast idly at it, and hooked the fish. Imagin- 

 ing that it must be a little one, I essayed to haul it ashore. 

 But it would not be hauled, and went off downstream. 

 Then it rolled, and I saw its depth of silver. With a 

 gasp, I changed my tactics and played it with the most 

 anxious care. I confess that I did not deserve the 

 fortune, but the fish was safely landed a noble dace of 

 one pound two and a half ounces. I do not expect ever 

 to get one bigger, and I am thankful to say that, with 

 the other pounder, he reached the taxidermist safely. 

 Together in a glass case they now remain a memorial 

 of a glorious occasion. 



The next day may just be mentioned as a curiosity. 

 The fishing was a brief affair, or rather the sport was. 

 I reached the water about 10 a.m. By twenty minutes 

 past I had landed the big grayling and two of his 

 brothers, and, except for three or four little dace, I 



